The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1887-08-12
BARBARA.

Now. you must do some credit TO my
nursing. and get strong and we'll again."
As Fannie Pleasanton spoke she put be-
side the bed over which she was leaning, a
great bunch of fragrant violets, moist and
beautiful, breathing their sweet stories of
shady nooks in deep woods. A little pale
face that had been lying listlessly on the
pillow was lifted eagerly.
"Oh, how good you are o, they are like
home. my own dear home %
Great tears rolled down the pale face.
Tell me about your home. How came
you to leave 1t for the city ?" said Fannie.
My father died. and the farm was sold to
pay a mortgage. l had little money, and
l thought l could work in the city. Be
sides
But here Barbara Golding stopped. and a
faint crimson blush rose upon her pale
cheeks
'.H'mr' thought Fannie. wise in twenty
two years of city life and education "a
love story
She asked no questions. but pretty soon
Barbara said: You have been so kind
will tell you. Perhaps you can tell me
what to do
Will bcIp SOu III hul way EudS l. Cdl.
Two years ago, the summer that l was
seventeen, father took bOarder. he wss
a lawyer, and his health had failed from
studying too hard. / think he was about
twenty-eight, not handsome. but so gentle
and good that we all liked him from the first.
And he would come into the garden with
me. aid help me with vegetables and fruit,
because father left that to me /; and would
carry the milk up TO the dairy room for me,
and talk about books and the city, aId-O,
Miss Pleasapton, don't you know"
"He made love to you %
YES in a faint whisper.
"And You loved him %
YES" again. 81 could not help it I
When he went away he promised to come
the next summer, and he told me when be
TO share it,
Did he Gomez
Father died the next spring. and l came
here. thought should find him; but did
not see him for a long time; and when did
l had become so poor, so very poor, would
not force myself upon him. L worked as
we'll as / could, but this summer L became
sick. and but for you should have starved"
"Do you think your lover is still true to
you."
81 cannot tell would not trouble him.
Sometimes, after had found out where bis
,ffice was, would pass by after dark and
peep in 1t was beautifully furnished; so L
nope he is making his fortu ne; bat only
whispered God bless him, and came home.'
"Will you tell me his name"
"Lenox-Cyrus B. Lenox."
Fannie Pleasanton turned her face abrupt
y from the little seamstress, who had been
he object of her charity for the last six
weeks. and wa Iked to the window. Lifting
be soft white curtains she had placed there,
he looked into the street, while ringing In
Ter ears was the name Barbara Golding had
ust spoken.
Cyrus i. Lenox."
She was very pale when she came again TO
he bedside. but her voice was as sweet and
teady as ever as she said:
81 must leave you now, Barbara. but l
will CONS again this afternoon. II you
want anything. Mrs. Harper will answer the
,eI."
"Yes, she is very kind. But-you will |
ome agaiDI'
This afternoon. Try to eat a few Of the !
have brought you"
She went away then, stopping as usual to |
ell the anitress OF the poor tenement house |
o care for the sick girl until her return.
But instead of driving TO the store where she
lad intended 60 make final purchases for
learly completed wedding outfit. she told
he cOachman to drive home. Once there,
lnbeeding the anxious inquiries of her aunt,
.stonished at her early return and pale face,
he went to her own room, boiling the door,
before she sank down in a chair, weaIied
With the effort TO maintain her composure.
Cyrus B. Lenox, the girl said. Fannie
'leasanton, looking around her luxurious
Dom, saw a pleasant confusion Of dress,
lew garments loading tables and wardrobe,
lrawers overlooking with dainty inery. open
runks waiting to be packed. And the prep
rations were all for a wedding in one short